


Time

by Halvwyn



Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [8]
Category: Life of the Party D&D (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Need a good cry?, Prompt Fill, just sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23409811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halvwyn/pseuds/Halvwyn
Summary: Cassian was going to outlive the vast majority of the party. This was a well-established fact, and one that Cassian seemed to enjoy reminding the group, especially their resident fighter, quite frequently. It was said, and teased, and retorted against so often, that despite the dangers the party so often faced, Vanden never doubted the veracity of it.
Relationships: Cassian/Renard (Life of the Party)
Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681585
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is just straight angst.  
> Prompt fill for the following prompts: A last desperate “I love you!”, holding partner’s unconscious/dead body  
> Happy Bluesday!!

Cassian was going to outlive the vast majority of the party. This was a well-established fact, and one that Cassian seemed to enjoy reminding the group, especially their resident fighter, of quite frequently. It was said, and teased, and retorted against so often, that despite the dangers the party so often faced, Vanden never doubted the veracity of it.

He never doubted he would have plenty of time to sort his head (and, begrudgingly, heart) out about his growing affection towards the wizard. 

Their sword fight at the abbey of Kohr-Eylon seemed the perfect metaphor to Vanden. The pair exchanged blows, throwing each other off guard with brushing touches or promises whispered in ears. Neither, however, seemed willing or able to land the final blow, to end the dance and face the aftermath. Vanden has begun to think that, just maybe, after the months of dancing, of exchanging blow after blow, he was willing to yield.

* * *

The ambush came in broad daylight. They had been travelling for two days, returning to Shadebourne battered and bruised, but victorious in their task. Sleep had come poorly the night before, no one willing to admit defeat by napping in the cart, but all too tired to maintain their usual watchful gazes. It was a main road, anyway, well-traveled, often patrolled, there was little to worry about.

The first arrow struck Sariel in the ribs.

The group fell into a now familiar formation around their cart, calling out hits and enemies spotted. Sure that the party was as prepared as they could be, Vanden let himself fall into the pattern of battle: attack, dodge, riposte if possible, repeat. He heard a yelp,  _ Cassian,  _ he noted briefly, only to be drawn back into his own fight. If he were to be honest with himself, Vanden had no idea how long the fight lasted, but looking around at the bodies littered around their card, he wasn’t entirely sure how they had won. 

“Right, I think we’re clear!” he called out, picking his way back towards the cart from where he’d wandered away to during the fight. Astra had already dug out his lute from the cart, strumming a gentle melody as the rest of the group went through their own routines and Vanden made note of each party member safe: Boblem, patting the neck of and talking to the horses, soothing them with words he couldn’t make out as he checked them for injuries; Sariel and Elyse, sitting side-by-side on the edge of the cart as Elyse careful treated the arrow wound that started the confrontation; Cassian....Where was Cassian?

Vanden tried to quell the panic beginning to swell in his chest, breath coming quicker as he cast his eyes around in a desperate attempt to spot the man.  _ Where did I last see him? Hear him?  _ The longer his search stretched, the higher the panic climbed. It had reached his throat, leaving him voiceless as he shifted his gaze from those standing to the bodies littering the road. “Please,” he mouthed silently, wordlessly praying to whoever would hear him that his gut was wrong, that Cassian wasn’t- _ there. _

The fighter scrambled the rest of the way to where he could see the bright gold of Cassian’s vest, collapsing to his knees as his hands fluttered uselessly over the man. Swallowing heavily, Vanden wrenched back his voice from the silence that had claimed it,  _ one small blessing,  _ “Cassian,” he murmured urgently, fingers tracing lightly over his face, a brief spark of relief flooding his system as the man’s eyes flickered open, a soft smile on his lips.

“You found me, I see,” Cassian croaked, voice cracked and broken, seeming to match the rest of his body. Vanden desperately searched for the source of the rapidly growing pool of blood below the elf, hand finally settling over a gash in his lower stomach. It was small, for the amount of blood,  _ an exit wound for a hastily withdrawn sword,  _ his brain helpfully supplied and Vanden couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled out of his lips, pressing a hand uselessly against the wound, the other coming up to push Cassian’s hair away from his face.

“Your makeup is a mess,” he blubbered, half-sob-half-laugh, “You’re going to need to fix it, once we get you patched up.”  _ There’s too much blood. There’s far too much blood and you know it.  _ His mind continued to chant.

Cassian swallowed, gazing softly up at Vanden, “I....will not need to worry about that much longer, I think.” he murmured, a wry smiling pulling at his lips, “It seems I bit off more than I could chew.”

Vanden shook his head firmly, “ _ No.  _ You’re going to be just fine, Cassian. We’re going to get you patched up. And...” he swallowed, shifting his hand in Cassian’s hair down to cup his cheek, “and I have so much I need to talk to you about. So you need to hold on a little longer.”

Cassian attempted a huffing laugh, wincing as he coughed instead, spitting blood as the coughing subsided, “You...have the worst timing, my liege.” With an amount of effort that had Vanden once more grasping frantically for control of his emotions, Cassian lifted an arm, bruised and bloodied, to cup Vanden’s cheek in a mirror of Vanden’s own gesture, “There was, I think, much we both wished to say. But we both know that time is not on our side,  _ Mio caro. _ ”

Vanden slowly removed his hand from Cassian’s stomach, wiping frantically at his eyes before half-lifting Cassian into his lap, the elf hissing at the movement, but remaining otherwise silent. “I wanted...” he started, throat closing up and cutting him off as Cassian shuddered, pressing himself closer to Vanden’s chest, “I wanted  _ so much more,  _ Cassian. I wanted-”

“I know,” Cassian interrupted, voice beginning to break down to a true whisper, “I did, too.”

Before he could think better of it, Vanden leaned down, pressing his lips to Cassian's forehead, already cooler than he’d ever known it. There was silence for a moment, Vanden momentarily fearing the man in his arms was gone “...I’m scared, Vanden, of dying. But it does make me extraordinarily less afraid of saying that I love you.”

There was no holding back the sob that wracked through Vanden’s body before he captured Cassian’s lips in a kiss. “I love you, too, Cassian.”

“...Good to know.”

It wasn’t long after that, that Cassian’s body went slack; that Vanden’s world narrowed down entirely to the man in his arms; that he let out a wail that had the rest of the party rushing to his side. When they arrived, they found their leader desperately clutching the love he’d both just found and lost.


End file.
